


I Dream of You

by Jarino



Series: Rima Lavellan, Herald of Andraste [15]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Guilt, Hallucinations, Hurt, Lyrium Withdrawal, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rite of Tranquility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 09:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5242991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarino/pseuds/Jarino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen's nightmares become even more unpleasant when he dreams about himself hurting Rima.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Dream of You

Cullen’s dreams were almost never pleasant. Whenever he dared to shut his eyes, there was always the ever-looming threat that was his subconscious. Memories that have haunted him for years past had a tendency to reemerge at night, forcing him to relive some of the more painful and traumatic experiences of his life. His lyrium withdrawals did nothing to ease his pain. Rather, they agitated his fears further, digging further into the dark recesses of his mind in search of new ways to torment him. He refused to let these dreams get to him. He was the Commander of the Inquisition – he was better than this.

Most of the time, he did manage to brush them off, quickly forgetting the horrors of the previous night before moving on to perform his duties, but there were times when dismissing the nightmares just wasn’t possible. Those were usually the same days when his withdrawal symptoms were at their worst, with headaches so intense he couldn’t think straight and tremors that left him incapable of getting out of bed.

Rima always managed to pick up on his behavior in record time and if he wasn’t already confined to his bed due to lack of mobility, she would order him to a day of rest, making sure to dote on him until he’d recovered. She was far too kind to him, he’d decided; taking precious time from her all too busy schedule to tend to him in his moments of weakness. He’d attempted to argue against her ministrations before, but she’d promptly disregarded his complaints, insisting that it was no trouble. And when she’d gingerly cupped his cheek, staring at him with tender reverence, he was almost inclined to believe her.

He soon came to realize just how much he’d fallen in love with her. She was the one bright spot in his life; whenever the pain got to be too great, her gentile touch or soothing voice seemed to ease his agony in ways he hadn’t thought possible. She’d worked her way into his heart and somehow managed to fill the void in his otherwise miserable life.

But that was where the problem lay.  

The dreams were never kind to him. For years, they would remind him of his past misdeeds or the people he had wronged. On occasion, they would bring up faces from the past; faces he’d give anything to forget. Cullen had spent countless nights praying to the Maker, begging Him to spare him of these torturous reminders. Anything to stop seeing Meredith’s skin burned away by red lyrium or being forced to witness Amell’s lifeless body dropped before him. Now, more than anything, he wished he could take that back.  

Because now the dreams were including her.

\-----

Cullen stood in an all-too familiar purple cage, his hard gaze directed at the ground as desperate screams echoed around him. The tear stains on his face had long-since dried and his hair remained matted with the blood and grime of his fellow Templars. To look up and see the others falling to the abominations…it was too much. He tried his best to shut it out.

But then one voice called out, much clearer than the others. It belonged to a young girl; her sobs echoing loudly throughout the chamber as she begged for mercy. He squeezed his eyes shut in determination, attempting to block out the noise. When a sharp, shrill cry rang from her throat, though, his eyes snapped open and he found himself unable to ignore the situation any longer.

Just on the outskirts of his prison stood an abomination, with a young child struggling in its grip. Tears and snot were streaming down her face as she wailed for help, her limbs flailing about in her attempts to escape. Something about her seemed familiar, but it wasn’t until her piercing green eyes locked with his that he recognized her and immediately, he sensed his heart drop. That was Rima.

He didn’t bother trying to understand what she was doing in the Circle in Ferelden when he knew she would have been with her clan…all that mattered was the scene taking place before him in that moment. He rushed to the edge of the cage, his hands pressing against the magical barrier as he looked at her in distress. She desperately stretched her arms out towards him, as if he would be able to pull her from the creature’s grasp.

But of course, that just wasn’t possible.

Time slowed down then, a look of terror frozen upon her face for a split second before she let out a bloodcurdling scream. Her flesh began expanding, ripping apart as the muscles outgrew her skin. Her form continued to morph and shift in a disturbing manner, with bulbous growths protruding from her body as her face became unrecognizable.

Cullen found himself incapable of looking away, his jaw hung open as he stared at her in horror.

And then he was falling.

 

He landed harshly on his feet, the world spinning around him for several moments before he could attempt to right himself. He still wore his templar armor, but was no longer surrounded by the stone walls of the Circle. He stood amongst the greenery of what must have been the outskirts of Kirkwall.

He didn’t have to look far before his gaze fell upon a young elf, who stood petrified with fear. They stared at each other for a long, agonizing moment before she broke off in a sprint. He found himself chasing after her, though he wasn’t sure why.

She was quick, he had to give her that, but her legs were short, and it was only a matter of time before he caught up to her. His hand clamped down on her wrist and she let out a cry of pain as her arm twisted back. “Let me go! Please!” she exclaimed with desperation.

“You are a mage,” he heard himself say. “I am taking you to the Circle.”

“No!” she cried out, still fighting against his grip.

He ignored her struggling and began dragging her along. When she attempted to summon flames to her fingertips, though, he whirled upon her and in an instant, hit her with a Smite. A breathless gasp escaped her throat as she slumped to the ground, staring up at him with sheer terror. She opened her mouth as if to plead for mercy, but he Silenced her without a second thought. Her energy drained, she went limp in his grasp as her eyes fell shut.

Something in him felt drunk with the power he wielded, while the part that remained an onlooker felt nothing but sick to his stomach.  

 

Years flashed by in the blink of an eye and suddenly he was in a dimly lit hallway. Sniffling could be heard at the end of the corridor and he approached it with a surprisingly calm demeanor. Upon opening the wooden door, the source of the crying quickly became clear to him. Chained up on the opposite end of the room was none other than a thirteen year old Rima.

“Knight-Captain. You’ve arrived.” One of the Templars standing beside the girl spoke up, which caught her attention.

Her neck snapped up urgently and she looked up at Cullen with tear-filled eyes. “No…” she murmured. “No, no, no…”

“Keep her restrained,” Cullen muttered apathetically as he walked across the room, reaching for the brand.

She quickly became more hysterical, frantically pulling at the restraints that kept her bound to the wall before the other Templar pulled the chains tighter. “She’s got quite the spirit…it’s a shame she’ll lose that,” he said with a sickening grin.

She continued to scream and writhe, doing everything in her power to escape, but the man held her firmly in place. As Cullen approached, wielding the sunburst brand, she ducked her head to the side, hoping to avoid the cursed thing, but another Templar took hold of her jaw and righted her, forcing her to meet Cullen’s gaze.

His eyes remained impassive as he descended upon her, but hers were more expressive than they had been her entire life. A thousand different expressions passed across her face, though each one was deeply rooted in fear. As the brand sunk into her forehead, the hissing sound of burning flesh was easily drowned out by her ear-shattering scream. That sound alone would never be able to leave Cullen for as long as he lived.

 

Another flash, another skip through time. Her forehead was free of the sunburst mark, but she still remained beneath him, a familiar look of fright plastered upon her face. She was sixteen and he, twenty six. She should have been a child in his eyes, but something within him, something darker was looking past that and was instead focused on the inviting curves of her body.

“Please, Ser…” she whimpered. “I’ve been good, why are you doing this?”

“Shut up…” he grunted, fumbling with her robes. “You’re distracting me.”

He pinned her to the wall, harshly capturing her mouth in a kiss. When he broke away, he took notice of the tears streaming down her face, her eyes scrunched up in agony. “Please stop, I…I don’t want this…” she managed to whisper.

“It doesn’t matter what you want,” he said matter-of-factly, his gaze darkening as he leaned closer. “You are a mage. And you are good for only one thing.”

Not breaking eye contact, he lifted her robes a few more inches before he sheathed himself inside her in a single motion. She let out a sharp cry of pain and he, a groan of pleasure. “Maker, you’re so tight…”

Cullen continued to thrust inside her as she sobbed against him; begging, pleading for him to stop, but he only continued to take what he deemed was rightfully his.

He kept up his harsh pace, beating her ragged against the stone wall until he finally spilt himself inside her, releasing a roar of satisfaction. Panting heavily, he pulled himself from her, his seed dripping across her stomach and she instinctively curled in on herself, weeping as she rocked back and forth.

 

 A finger tapped him on the shoulder, and he spun around to face the one responsible. In one fluid motion, years passed by and he was in his tower at Skyhold, bearing a new set of armor. The figure that stood before him was none other than a desire demon, grinning at him with mischievous eyes.

“Having fun, are we?”

“Leave me, demon,” he growled. “I’m not interested in what you offer.”

“Oh?” it asked with a smirk. “I beg to differ.”

The creature’s form quickly began morphing until it was a perfect likeness for the Inquisitor.

Cullen could feel white hot rage bubbling up within his chest and he took two menacing steps toward the imposter before gripping her neck in his hands. “You dare to mimic her? As if that would entice me?”

“Cullen…” she murmured seductively in a voice that was far too similar to Rima’s for Cullen’s liking.

“Stop it!” he yelled, his grip tightening severely.

“Cullen…please…” Her voice sounded somewhat smaller, but he did not relent. His hold on her neck proceeded to grow tighter and tighter and it wasn’t until he heard the broken words “I love you” and the snap of her neck that he realized what he’d done.

Her eyes clouded over and he took a nervous gulp. He begged for this to be a trick…It had to be. Slowly, he released his grip on her, and could only watch in horror as her lifeless body fell to the floor.

\-----

Cullen shot up in bed, panting heavily and clutching his chest. His skin was clammy and his sheets were soaked with sweat. It took several minutes for his breathing to return to normal, but even then, his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

 _It wasn’t real…It wasn’t real…_  He repeated the mantra to himself frantically, shutting his eyes tight as he attempted to calm himself.

Gradually, he leaned back on his pillow, exhaling deeply as his thoughts returned to him. He knew it was only a dream...but despite the lack of sense or continuity, the scenarios were not incredibly far-fetched. He knew that if things had been a little different, any one of those circumstances could have been a reality and the thought of that terrified him above all else.

He loved Rima more than life itself. Ever since the attack on Haven, he’d sworn to himself he would do everything in his power to protect her.

But how in the Maker’s name was he supposed to protect her from himself?


End file.
